Reunion
by Angel of Apathy
Summary: A year in the Cretaceous takes its toll on everyone. It's worse when you can't tell anyone why it hurts so much. Becker/Connor, the aftermath of S4 Ep1


**What do you mean, I should be doing revision instead of writing fanfic? Because I am a shameless fangirl, I'm indulging my not-so-secret 'ship of Connor/Becker. Reviews are love!**

**Reunion**

Four expeditions. He'd sent _four_ expeditions in the desperate hope that he would be able to bring them back. Each one had been harder to get security clearance for. After the first, where he'd lost three good men, Lester had pulled him aside and told him to be more careful next time. After the second, when he came back without Sarah, the talk had been harsher. He was only allowed to take his very best men on the third raid through whatever anomaly they could find. Even so, he'd come back with a broken collarbone and another five men dead – close friends of his. Lester had fought him for the fourth expedition, and he'd had to throw every bit of authority he had to get him to agree. In fact, if he hadn't threatened to walk out of the ARC and never come back, hadn't been completely serious about doing so, it was likely Lester would have refused. After the massacre that was their fourth trip (and he was willing to admit that it was a mistake, walking blindly into a nest of future predators), Lester had forbidden any further trips. That conversation was something that had burned in Becker's mind for weeks. He'd fought tooth and nail for yet another trip – _we can't just give up on them! They're relying on us!_ – and Lester had turned, finally, his temper pushed that little too far – _they're not coming back, Becker! Face it! They're dead, or as good as!_ He'd slammed his hand clean through one of the fancy glass walls and walked out of the ARC, and didn't come back for three days. He wanted to stay away, he really did, but the anomalies were his only chance. Without them, he would never find them again.

There was a fine line of denial he was treading. He absolutely refused to admit that they might be dead. He also refused to admit why he was so desperate to find them again. After all, no one else knew, r even so much as suspected. It had hardly been anything serious, before the cracks in time tore them from each other and suddenly nothing was 'just a bit of fun' anymore. He could kick himself for letting that be how Connor believed he felt. That was all it had been, at the time – they'd netted a creature together, and had been adrenaline high and laughing and suddenly kissing and it had all seemed like just fun, just messing around. The second time, when Connor had been knocked sideways by a dinosaur's tail and had been lying limp and fragile, Becker had had the first inkling that this might not be just for fun. He hadn't said anything. He's waited until afterwards, when they could slink off without attracting attention, and had pinned Connor to a wall and curled his hands into his collar and kissed him fiercely and pulled away just far enough to whisper, "Please, be more careful next time." Connor had laughed, little tickling exhales across his lips, and leaned back in to kiss him again. "I will, I promise."

He promised. And then he went and got stuck in the cretaceous. Becker was left to sit and wait, and steadily felt more and more powerless. After ten months, he began to believe what Lester had said. They were dead, or as good as. There was no way for them to come back. He'd thrown himself into working, determined not to lose any more of his men – of his friends. Everyone gave these understanding looks when his temper flared up and when he couldn't stand to even stay inside the ARC buildings. _He's lost some of his closest friends_, they whispered when they thought he couldn't hear them, _it's to be expected_. Yes, it was true, in a way – Abby and Danny _had_ been some of his closest friends. Connor, too. But he's wanted Connor to be… what? Something more than close friends. It was that that wound up inside him like a spring, caused him to lash out at people and objects, to shatter the mirror in his flat with his fists and disappear for hours into the practise firing range under the ARC until the paper targets were in tatters and his arms were shaking too much to hold a gun steady. Jess, in her usual bubbly, unsubtle, slightly annoying manner, had once tried to gently inquire if he was really in any fit state to go out on a mission. He'd snapped at her, and gone out and put six bullets square into the head of the creature unlucky enough to venture through the anomaly. He didn't even try to justify it as self-defense.

* * *

The sight of them lying on the ground, held down, caught something inside him and ripped, painfully. He hardly dared to hope, but then he got closer and there was no mistaking the pair of them – one blonde, elegant, tough beneath the layer of grime. The other, dark and still gangly and for a moment he couldn't breathe, couldn't drag any air in at all. Then he remembered himself, remember that there were people all around who expected their fearless leader to act appropriately.

"I hope you brought me a souvenir."

He felt Connor grip his hand, after that second of hesitation, while Abby was just happy to grip on and haul herself up. That slight gap between them – _are things… the same? _– before he dragged Connor in to hug him and felt like maybe his heart was breaking or mending, it wasn't clear.

"We would have called, but the receptions was terrible." It was a weak joke, under the circumstances, but he grinned in response because _ohGod_ they were _back_, Connor was _back_ and it hurt but in such a good way that he knew it had to be true, had to be real.

He didn't even care that he ended up chasing a dinosaur through the streets. He had to fight to hide how scared he was when Connor stepped out into the arena, into danger again. By the time they got back to the ARC, he had to fight again, this time to stop himself grabbing Connor and disappearing off into some secluded corner. He held himself back. What if… a year was a long time. What if Connor no longer wanted to…? He felt his hands shake, just a little. He excused himself as soon as he could, heading down to the deepest layers of the ARC. There were areas down there where the cameras were easy to scramble, where it was possible to avoid the all-seeing eyes for a little while. He wasn't even sure why he was there. He paced, buzzing with energy but unsure where to direct it. After a year, a whole year, they were back, and now he felt like an awkward teenager again, all _do you think he likes me back?_ and hiding from people.

A footstep echoing on the concrete floor. He turned. Under a swinging naked bulb, Connor stood, still in his grime-streaked, year-old clothes. His hair was dirty and snarled. He looked… nervous.

"I, uh. I thought you might… be down here."

It hurt so much. There was no one around. He let go.

* * *

Connor huffed out a little breath as he was knocked back into a damp concrete wall, and then Becker's lips crushed against his and he felt a year's worth of heartbreak fade away. His fingers curled into the back of Becker's black army fatigues and breathed in steadily without breaking the kiss. Becker smelled like he remembered. His hands were shaking, and he gripped harder to try to stop them. One of Becker's hands flattened on his ribcage, while the other curled against his jaw, fingers tangling into the ends of his hair. His next breath out sounded like a sob even to his own ears, and he felt Becker pull away.

"Are you… are you alright?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in, out, ragged in his throat. He had to swallow before he could speak. "I thought I'd never see you again." It told more than he'd wanted it to. He felt the convulsive twitch deep in his chest, a sob trying to escape, and clamped his jaw against it. It made his head ache, holding it inside. His fingers ached from being curled so tight, and in a tiny corner of his brain he thought that it must hurt where his nails dug into Becker's shoulders. He couldn't let go. He heard and felt the soft exhale of breath, flickering against cheek, and then he was pulled closer as Becker's hand slipped from his face to over his shoulder, drawing him into his grip. Connor pressed his forehead against Becker's collarbone and blinked a few times to clear his eyes.

"I tried to find you." He could feel the words vibrate in Becker's chest, feel his breathing and the slow steady pulse of his heart. "I sent four expeditions to try to find you."

"Thought those were against the rules." His voice scraped unpleasantly in his throat.

"Sometimes a little rule breaking is the best thing to do." He could hear the smile behind the words.

"That's not what you always told us."

Becker leant back to look at him, resting his arm heavy across Connor's shoulder. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. And I think you getting stuck in the cretaceous counts as desperate."

He half-laughed, relief making him feel dizzy. He'd been running on almost pure adrenaline and now as it left him he felt suddenly exhausted. He leaned his weight on Becker, finally managing to relax his grip. "You have no idea how much I missed you." He didn't really feel in control of his own words any more, as he knew for a fact he hadn't meant to say that.

"Believe me, I have quite a good idea." He kissed him again, slow and soft and lingering this time. "And after you promised to stay out of trouble, too."

Connor's eyes fell shut. "I'm not very good at keeping promises." Their lips just brushed, a featherlight touch. Unseen, something like fire sparked into life in Becker's eyes.

"Next time, try harder."

In one kiss, they burned away a year of pain.


End file.
